Dark Griffin
by Elder Pen
Summary: Umbridge wasn’t hoping to arrest Dumbledore with a weapon in OOTP, she was going to acquire it for herself. Now she has one, and just a bit longer till she can start the war she’s been longing for. Can the half Dementor stop her, or will he obey orders?
1. Chapter 1

**Dark Griffin**

Chapter One

White billowing steam gushed from the sides of the Hogwarts Express with a deep hiss as students said their farewells to families and friends. Many had stopped to gaze awkwardly at a first year in particular who had an escort of three Aurors and one ministry official. The Aurors seemed abnormally tense, making sure not to turn their backs to the child, and kept their wands at the ready as if expecting a desperate fight for their lives. One would suspect they would busy themselves scanning the surrounding crowd for possible attackers, but they kept their eyes fixed on the child who seemed quite oblivious of his escort. Perhaps the first year was actually used to this, or even thought of it as normal.

More perplexing than the escort, was the first year himself. The boy was dressed in regular black Hogwarts robes, with dark brown hair that feel an inch short of his jawbone. The odd thing about the boy is that he seemed very light on his feet at times, like he was weightless, ghost walking in a way. In a few rare instances one could have said he skipped a step and drifted just above the stone walk of platform nine and three quarters.

The boy with dark brown hair and darker brown eyes seemed oblivious to his guards or the curious glances the passerby's gave him. The boy was happy, ecstatic to go to the magical school, like a bird being let out of its cage for the first time.

Setting the fact aside the young boy had an ethereal grace or his company that seemed to be treating him as a prisoner more than a soon to be student of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, he also had a strange black leather collar around his neck. The odd part about is that the neck cuff had no buckle or way to detach it, but iron loops to connect chains of some type. It clearly was not a fashion statement but some sort of irremovable restraint device, undoubtedly with magical properties.

"You have been briefed about this on multiple occasions, so I've got nothing to tell you," the ministry official said stiffly. "Any questions Unit one zero one alpha?"

"No sir," Donovan, or Unit one zero one alpha said in a militant fashion, standing in a rigid position of attention.

"Very well, Dismissed Unit one zero one alpha," he said turning around, not sounding very thrilled about anything in particular. The Aurors backed away until they felt they were at a safe distance where they could turn their backs to the child and flank the ministry official who had to leave the eleven year old by himself, clearly with much more important things to do.

Donovan was interrupted in middle of mentally conceiving his freedom by a small cluster of girls who eyed him warily.

"Three Aurors you know."

"What's that dog collar around his neck anyway?"

"You see him float above the ground for a moment there?"

Donovan sighed as he slung his rucksack over his shoulders and grasped his trunk firmly by the handle. He effortlessly hauled his luggage and handed his ticket to a conductor who examined the ticket and then asked for identification, the new procedure since the end of the second war nearly twelve years ago.

"Yes sir," Donovan said as he set down his trunk and dug into a pocket inside his robes and removed a leather wallet and flipped it open. A picture ID was displayed, the conductor tapped it with his wand making it glow blue, proving its authenticity. The conductor paused staring at a silver badge on the other face of Donovan's wallet.

"The Authority to apprehend and arrest? And to use deadly force!" the conductor said rather bewildered of the child's legal rights. "But you're just a kid!"

"My ticket sir?" Donovan said tiredly giving the man an artic stare.

"Oh yes," the unsettled conductor said handing the boy his ticket and letting him board the train.

Donovan walked down the aisle between compartments, not bothering to check which ones where occupied and which ones were not, like he already knew. After traveling several cars down Donovan opened a door without knocking to reveal no one, but plenty of luggage in the rack. Clearly the occupants had all left for some reason with the intent to return.

Donovan sighed as he shut the door and continued down the train. The next car down he discovered a compartment vacant of both people and luggage, which he claimed for himself.

He slung his luggage most adults would struggle with into the overhead rack with ease and removed two books from his military-style rucksack one titled "Wizarding Warfare Throughout The Millennium" and the other 'Magical Combat: An Art – Written by Alastor Moody'.

Donovan opened the text composed by the Ex-Auror at the placement of the bookmark and allowed himself to become enveloped with the veteran's advice on how to identify a hostile enemy who has taken the identity as one of your own. Donovan hardly noticed that the train had slowly begun to roll forward and accelerate gradually.

Donovan pushed a tendril of dark brown hair out of his eyes as he flipped a page reading through the text, currently reading how the author was impersonated for nearly a year without being noticed in Hogwarts.

The door had just begun to slide open; Donovan reacted instantly.

"Anything off the trolley dear?" an elder woman asked, but stared in mild shock at a boy presenting himself at attention.

Donovan continued to stand at attention and decided to ignore the fact that he had been referred to as a land based herbivore. "I have already been provided with adequate rations ma'am," he said holding his posture firmly.

The lady nodded weakly and left, leaving the door open behind her, and muttered "Always a new one every year."

The perplexed boy got up from his seat and walked towards the door about to close it when a small black furry thing darted inside.

Donovan was caught of guard, something that would have not gone unpunished at the ministry as he reached for his wand. He never cast magic before, but seen it done a thousand times. He should be able to muster a simple stunning spell.

The black creature leapt at the boy and clung to his robes and ascended swiftly. Donovan reached down and snagged the creature by the ruff of the neck and pointed the wand at the creature and it struggled in mid air.

"A Kneazle?" he said identifying the intruding magical creature. Large green eyes stared into Donovan's cold brown ones. Very large pointed ears focused towards Donovan as the feline's black tail, comparable to that of a lion's, swayed back and forth adoringly. The creature made a trilling meow as it looked at the boy innocently.

"Kieran!" a girl's voice called from the aisle. A girl, a few inches shorter than Donovan appeared in the doorway.

The girl gasped in shock as she saw Donovan holding her pet with his wand pointing at the harmless creature.

"This yours ma'am?" he said looking from the infantile Kneazle to her as he holstered his wand.

The girl had long black silky hair and vivid blue eyes; it took Donovan a moment to realize she had a pair of white pearly wings coming out of her back. He had the immediate impression of an eleven-year-old angel.

"Sorry if he bothered you," she said taking the feline magical creature back.

Donovan was about to ask her if she was half harpy as he suspected, but remember how it irritated him when people asked about his heritage. "You need a compartment to stay in ma'am?" he offered.

"Thanks," the girl said as she dragged her luggage inside. "And my name is Celeste by the way."

Kieran leapt towards the door eagerly, but was cut off by Donovan who slammed the door in front of the Kneazle, whose ears drooped slightly in light of his failed escape.

"Likes to run away from you I take it?" Donovan said sitting down on his side and cracking open his book.

"Only when I run after him in return," Celeste explained as she craned her neck to read the title of the book. "Magical combat: an art. You want to be an Auror when you grow up?" she asked.

Donovan stooped reading, but kept his eyes fixated upon the text in front of him. "That's not for me to decide," he said after a few seconds pause.

Celeste looked at Donovan worriedly. "Strict parents?" she asked.

"My mother is dead and my father is in Azkaban," Donovan told her. "I don't have parents."

Celeste feathery wings drooped in embarrassment. "Sorry I brought that up."

"I don't have a problem talking about it," Donovan said throwing his book to the side; he obviously was not going to get any reading done soon. "I never seen my father and my mother died right after I was born."

"So your father was arrested before you mother gave birth? He wasn't a - you know – Death Eater, was he?" she asked timidly. Kieran the Kneazle was busy trying to capture a fly that was bouncing of the window in an attempt to escape.

Donovan grinned darkly. "My father is not a inmate in Azkaban, he's one of the guards."

Celeste's eye met Donovan's in shock. "You're a-a…" she said trailing off.

"Mutant? Freak? Magical Anomaly?" Donovan said with a raised eyebrow.

"Half-breed," Celeste said looking sadly at him. Her pet had just acquired itself the fly it had been going after and begun pawing at the injured insect that wriggled around on the ground. "Like me," she added.

"Half Harpy correct?" Donovan said nodding at her feathery appendages.

"And you're a half Dementor," Celeste confirmed, grasping the concept.

"The only one that has ever existed," Donovan said with a false pride in his voice, like he wished he didn't exist at all.

"I never heard of one before, but then, sorry for asking, what do you eat exactly?" Celeste said cocking her eyebrows.

"Food," Donovan said unable to restrain a small amount of smugness in his voice.

"So then, what can you do, being that your half Dementor?" Celeste asked.

"I can see souls," Donovan explained. "I can fly like a Dementor, as I expect you can-"

"-Not very well with these robes on, way to much wind resistance," she explained. "I have to get a running start as well."

"Probably faster than me I'd imagine," Donovan said giving her a slightly contemptuous sideways glance.

Celeste blinked momentarily. "Hey. My sister said something about seeing a kid who was occasionally floating above the ground. He was surrounded by like ten Aurors."

"Three actually," he corrected her.

Celeste looked at Donovan with wide sparkling eyes. "Your with the ministry?" she said perplexedly.

"I'm ministry property," Donovan said who stared at Kieran who had just leapt up on his lap and mewed at him expectantly. Donovan looked as if he didn't know what to do, like he had never had contact with a domesticated pet before.

"What?" Celeste said in a disbelieving voice.

"My mother died, correct? So my custody goes to my father, but he is a Dementor who is also owned by the ministry. So in short, the ministry owns me," he said straightforwardly as he held out a finger for Kieran to stiff.

"They can't own people!" Celeste said in an outburst.

"I'm not a person, as I am continuously reminded," Donovan said wondering how to react to a fuzzy black creature that was rubbing up against him. "I remember that Kneazle claws are a vital ingredient in a number of potions." Kieran leapt of his lap with an irritated meow before climbing up into the luggage rack and sitting himself down.

"Why don't they just give you to someone else?" Celeste asked.

"I expect they have plans for me," he said putting his arms under his head as his stretched to more comfortable position on his chair.

"So you're a slave?" Celeste said with a tone of hopelessness in her voice.

"That's one way of putting it," Donovan said looking at the ceiling.

Celeste looked out the window. "Ever thought of running away?"

"Impossible," Donovan denied flatly.

"How come?"

Donovan pulled down his shirt collar and revealed a black leather cuff around his neck. Two Iron loops protruded from either side so chains could be attached.

Celeste hesitated. "A dog collar?"

Donovan sat up and looked at her in the eyes. "It's called a garrote. It has a locater spell worked in so they know were I am at all times. If I disobey an order it will shrink, hence straggling me, until either I comply too my orders or pass out."

"Oh my," she said uncomfortably.

"It can also constrict until it decapitates me entirely," Donovan said as if on a happier note.

Celeste looked out the window and watched a heavily forested mountain slowly pass them. "Are you a weapon?" she said not looking at Donovan.

Donovan looked out the window with her. "And anything else they want me to be."

A long silence plagued the room. Donovan suddenly looked up towards the door as if expecting something, his hand reaching for his wand.

The door slid open presenting a sixth year Head Girl from Ravenclaw with long black silky hair and black window frame glasses. "Hey Cely," she said to Celeste.

"Hey Jen, Back from the prefect car?" Celeste said turning towards her.

"Yeah," the sixth year said tossing her luggage up on the rack. A small black Kneazle darted out of the luggage rack and into Celeste's lap. "Oh! Sorry Kieran! Didn't see you there."

Donovan looked from one to another. Clearly many resemblances were apparent. But the Head girl seemed to lack a set of wings.

"Half sisters?" Donovan asked.

"Yeah," the Head Girl confessed. "We share the same father," she confessed.

"How much longer is this train ride going to be Jen?" Celeste asked anxiously.

"Not even a quarter done yet," Jen said giving her an 'I know what you mean' look. "And guess what I heard during the conference, about a kid in your year?"

"What?" Celeste asked.

"There's a half Dementor that's property of the ministry," she said in a gossipy tone. "Remember that kid I said I thought I saw gliding above the ground? They said he's been raised by military specialists and they call him Unit one hundred and one A-"

"-Jen," Celeste interrupted in a deep tone. "I know."

"What you mean?" Jen said cocking her head.

"It's enunciated as 'Unit one zero one alpha'," Donovan said in a bitter manner, "ma'am."

"Oh my god!" Jen said turning a wonderful shade of red and bringing her hands to her mouth. "I- I'm really, really-"

"-Nothing to apologize for ma'am," Donovan denied. "I can't blame you for being human," he said in a way that reminded her that he wasn't completely human himself.

"Jennifer, meet Donovan. Donovan, meet Jennifer," Celeste said awkwardly, trying to improve the situation.

"Can I call you Donny?" Jennifer said testily.

"Don't push your luck ma'am," Donovan said as he picked up his book 'Magical Combat: an art.'

"I read that one before," Jennifer said sitting down. "Have you read the sequel, Constant Vigilance?"

"Not yet," Donovan said flipping page. "Why they do that?" he said offhandedly.

"Do what?" Celeste said as she waved a quill in front of Kieran who was rolling around on his back clearly enjoying himself as he pawed at the quill, his lion-like tail flailing wildly.

"Remove entire chapters," Donovan said as he started to read the next one.

"What chapter did the ministry remove?" Jennifer said leaning closer so she could see the book.

"Don't know, and I don't expect I'm suppose to," he said sounding like he didn't really care one way or another.

"I got my own copy, hang on," Jennifer said opening her trunk and shuffling through a stack of books.

Celeste ignored her pet momentarily as she watched her sister flip through the pages. "What page?" she asked.

Donovan looked at his own slightly altered copy. "The page before is two seven eight, so two seven niner."

"Niner?" Celeste recited Donovan looking at him like he had problems while Jennifer narrowed down her search.

"Oh my," Jennifer said after she found page two hundred seventy-nine.

"What?" Celeste said as she tried to free her quill from Kieran's playful grasp.

Donovan and Celeste both looked at the book that lay open at the chapter the ministry had taken the liberty to remove from Donovan's copy.

"Battlefield Ethics and The Laws of War," Donovan said perplexedly.

Celeste and Jennifer shared a glance before gaping at the pitiable confusion of the boy before them.

"What does that mean, 'Ethics', is that a made up word or something?" he said looking horribly confused.

Celeste looked as if she was going to start crying into her sister's shoulder when the door to the compartment slid open.

"There he is," a smooth aristocratic voice said. A fifth year Slytherin prefect presented himself complacently at the entrance of the compartment. "Unit one zero one alpha."

"What do you want Lestrange?" Jennifer said standing up acting like a human shield between him and the two first years.

"Oh," he said leaning upon the side of the door examining one of his already perfect fingernail. He had a sort of annoying carelessness in his voice. His frothy black hair fell down to he shoulder blades and was pulled into a ponytail. Everything about Lestrange was impeccable perfection. "Just here to pay a visit to our most anticipated newcomer," he said meeting Donovan's nearly black eyes with his own faint blue ones.

"Don't count your Dragons before they hatch," Jennifer reminded firmly.

"And where else do you expect him to be sorted exactly?" he challenged her smugly.

"My mother was in Gryffindor," Donovan said standing up from his seat, his robes billowed unnaturally, a faint cold wind seemed to swirl outward from his body. It seemed to deprive Lestrange of his comfortable attitude. "I may be required to obey any and all orders from the professors, but you are powerless over me. It's true I have the blood of a Dementor flowing through my veins. Even my normal body temperature is six degrees Celsius lower than the standard human body temperature of thirty-seven. You know what else I can do?" Donovan said as his feet left the ground so he met the Slytherin eye to eye. "Just like Dementors I contain within me brutish physical strength that is undiluted. I could very easily rip your skull in half with my bare hands."

Lestrange was currently clutching the sides of the compartment door to stabilize him as a cold sweet developed all over his body. The whole compartment seemed to be devoured by shadows, the darkness became thicker that in should. The only light came faintly from the window behind Donovan, who became a human eclipse in Lestrange's perspective, except that Donovan appeared to be anything but human at the moment.

"I've never eaten a soul before, always wondered what it would taste like," Donovan said in a clearly in human tone, like some predatory animal surfaced from within. His voice was deep and raspy, his long drawn out breaths were like a death rattle forged in the deepest lair of hell itself.

The terrified Slytherin prefect stumbled backward falling on his bottom and bolted down the train aisle. Donovan slid the door shut and turned around to face two very apprehensive sisters.

"Sorry about that," he apologized. "You wouldn't have any chocolate would you? Really helps after, well, you know."

"I bought some chocolate frogs from the lady at with the trolley," Jennifer said reaching into her backpack.

"You would do well to consume them," Donovan advised as he took his seat.

Celeste was in the corner of the compartment, her wings had wrapped around herself, like a shivering white feathery cocoon. Her eyes were still wide with terror as she looked at Donovan timidly.

For the first time in his life Donovan hated himself for what he was. He also felt sorry for hurting someone. This never encountered before emotion seemed to be harassing his inner conscious in a way he could not describe.

"I uh," Donovan said trying to find the right words. "Celeste I'm sorry I brought up those bad memories, whatever they are."

Jennifer held out a chocolate frog to her little sister. Celeste stuck a hand out from between her white feathery wings and took it with a nod of thanks.

"You can't see our worst memories?" Jennifer said.

"No, it doesn't work that way," Donovan explained. "I'm not skilled in Legilemency or anything."

Celeste nibbled of a leg of the chocolate frog still visibly shaking. Clearly she had a dreadful memory that Donovan brought up.

"I won't hurt you again, I promise," Donovan vowed looking intently into Celeste's sapphire eyes.

"It's okay," Celeste said parting her wings slightly. "You had to scare him away."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The Hogwarts express traveled on throughout the day and into the night.

"Nearly there," Jennifer said leaning back in her chair.

"Hey Jen," a voice said as the door slid open. A blonde Gryffindor girl from the same year appeared. "Where have you been all the this time?"

"I thought I would be with my sister during the ride," Jennifer said to her friend.

"Well you should see what Rug just got!" she said excitedly.

Jennifer looked to her little sister who was curled up within her wings sleeping peacefully and Donovan who was nearly finished with 'Magical Combat: An Art'.

"Okay," she said getting up and leaving with her friend.

Donovan looked outside his window as he watched Duff Town pass by in the distance. Donovan heard a trilling mew sound come from Celeste and looked at the small Kneazle protrude its head out from between her wings and yawn widely.

Donovan smiled weakly as Kieran managed to free himself from his master's feathery embrace and leap up on the windowsill to look outside.

The breaks on the train were applied and Donovan had to grab both of his books so they would not slide onto the floor due to their deceleration.

"Hey, Celeste," Donovan whispered as he shock her lightly.

"Muh is nit?" she mumbled under her wings.

"Next stop, Hogwarts," he informed.

Celeste sat up and stretched both her arms and her wings to their full span as she yawned, which sounded more like a gentle squeak. The tips of her wings made contact to either side of the spacious compartment.

"Were suppose to leave our luggage and pets here," she said still recovering from her nap, as Donovan was about to pull her trunk down from the lift.

"Oh," Donovan said shoving her trunk back to where it was.

Kieran meowed in protest and leapt expertly into Celeste's right robe pocket.

"If you plan on coming along," Celeste spoke to her bulging pocket, "you better pull that tail in."

The black lion like tail that swayed back and forth adventurously quickly disappeared inside the pocket.

"Ready?" she said looking up at Donovan, who stood several inches above her.

"I'm always ready," Donovan told her as the train came to a complete stop.

Celeste rolled her eyes. "Okay solider, then move out."

"What?" Donovan said somewhat densely as he followed her outside the compartment.

"First years! Over here!" a booming voice called out as soon as he and Celeste got off the Hogwarts express.

"Come on!" Celeste said eagerly as she grabbed Donovan's hand and led him through the crowd. He looked up at a massive silhouette in the distance and made his way through the multitude of Hogwarts students trying to keep up with his half-harpy friend.

"First years! Gather' round ya lot," the immense figure roared through the cool night. The man nearly stood above the train itself.

"Oh my," Celeste said as soon as she arrived at the feet of a half giant and had to bend her neck all the way back to see him properly. Donovan noticed that one of which was actually a peg leg that resembled a log more than anything.

"Hey there lit' angel," the man said in a deep rumbling tone from behind a massive beard of dark gray and brown.

Celeste blushed slightly and her grip tightened on Donovan's hand.

"Fer' those of you who don't know, I'm Professor Hagrid. Thou' wouldn't mind it jus be'in Hagrid," he introduced. "Let's get on our way, eh?" he said leading them apart from the rest of the students. "Steady now! The path head' is a lit' rocky!"

They were led down a narrow winding path which was easily over come by Donovan, seeing that he wore Dragon hide combat boots, and had to prevent Celeste on one occasion from losing her footing.

The difficult path led them to an enormous black lake that reflected the stray night sky and the full moon that hovered above Hogwarts. Donovan could make out the many towers and extensions conglomerated into a complex and mystifying school.

"Everyone into a boat!" Professor Hagrid hollered to everyone. "No more than five to a boat! No less than three!"

Celeste led Donovan to an unoccupied vessel and sat at the bow. Donovan held out a hand to two other boys both with neat blonde hair.

"Twins?" Donovan asked as he helped one into the wooden boat.

"No," one said rolling his eyes.

"We just happen to look exactly alike and be in the same year," the other one finished sarcastically.

Donovan, slightly taken aback sat behind the oars and grasped each one firmly about to begin rowing when they sprung to life on their own and pushed off the shore. "Should have known," he muttered.

"But didn't," one of the twins remarked arrogantly, looking thoroughly bored.

"What in the world?" the other one said looking at Celeste.

"A half hippogriff I think," his counterpart guessed.

"Mother doesn't approve of repulsive half breeds."

"You forgot about the other one," Donovan growled dangerously at them.

The twins both raised their eyebrows. "Why did you have to pick the freak ship, Marcus?" one said in an undertone to the other.

"I'll talk to father so next year he can arrange separate designated Mudblood and mutant boats so this doesn't happen again Thayne," Marcus compromised.

Donovan heard a muffled sob and the thrashing of massive wings. He turned around to see Celeste airborne and heading for the shore, evidently struggling to get their due to the fact she was still wearing her robes, but managing reasonably. Several students gasped in shock upon seeing to what appeared to be an angel in flight.

"She didn't even have the decency to bid us farewell," Thayne said leaning back in his corner of the boat crossing his arms with a disgusting leer of his face.

Donovan looked at the clearly Slytherin-bound Marcus and Thayne and smiled sadistically. Clenching a fist and raising it high, the twins recoiled as far to the back of the boat as possible expecting it was for them, and brought his fist down into the floor of the boat smashing out a gapping hole. Icy black water began to gush though the opening as the vessel began its sink bellow the waterline.

"Have a nice swim," Donovan said with a false kindness before gliding across the lake towards Celeste. He could hear the desperate cries of the twins behind them as the unpleasantly cold waters overwhelmed them.

Racing ahead of the boats Donovan arrived at the shore and looked about through the darkness. The ministry had given him vitamins every day since he was born to help him develop exceptionally in all aspects from nerve conductivity for reaction time to eye function for night vision and long-range acuity. But his eyes were still human.

He heard a faint whimper of pained sorrow from a nearby shadow.

"Celeste?" Donovan called out as he walked towards the soft crying.

A small girl with black silky hair and pearly white wings darted out of the darkness and collided into Donovan. She pressed the side of her face into his chest and began to dampen his robes with her tears.

Donovan was standing perfectly still unsure what to do. What was she doing? Donovan himself had never cried as far as he remembered, save for getting debris and the sort in his eyes, and had never been around other children his entire life to witness them in a distraught manner. Most of his time he spent in the company of stiff adults or harsh trainers who forced him to both his physical and mental boundaries.

"I wish I was strong like you Donovan," Celeste said during a lapse in her weeping on his shoulder.

"No… You don't," he told her after finally embracing her in return. "Trust me on that one."

"You want to know what I saw when you scared that Slytherin off?" she said wiping her noise on her sleeve.

"What?" Donovan said as he noticed several giant tentacles seizing two drowning children from the waters and moving them to a nearby boat.

"When I was seven years old I went with my sister and dad to Diagon Alley by the Floo network, it was my first time. I jumped a few places too far and ended up in some shop Knockturn Alley." Celeste paused as she gathered the courage to continue. "I stumbled into a man who said he would take me to Diagon Alley and led me into a side street were he drew a knife and tried to stab me with it. I remember trying to fly away, but the street was so narrow I couldn't get my full wingspan. I broke my left wing trying to get away from him and he wrestled me to the ground saying things that didn't make any sense. Just before he was able to hurt me an Auror ambush happened, like out of nowhere, and the man was killed after being hit several times by some curses." Celeste clutched Donovan tighter. "His dead sweaty body fell on top of me. He said 'freak' into my ear just before he died."

Donovan blinked several times. "That was Rustle Jugson the Half Breed killer four years back," he recalled.

"Yeah," Celeste said letting Donovan free from her embrace. "I always wanted to be an Auror when I grew up after that, but now that I see the ministry enslaved you and so on-"

"-Your not sure their exactly the good guys you were thinking they were," Donovan concluded. "If I were you I'd just worry about what house I'm going to be sorted in. Me? I don't have to worry about anything, the ministry going to do all the deciding."

"Makes life simple if you get use to it," Celeste said walking down the shore with Donovan towards the cave where the boats headed.

"It's kind of like, well it's hard to say. For starters I don't really care what they got in store for me the next day or anything, whether I know or not I'm going to do it anyway just the same," Donovan tried to explain.

"You've been desensitized," she concluded.

"I have very acute senses, thank you," Donovan said. Celeste gawked at him hopelessly. "I'm kidding, I know what you mean."

"I'm glad," Celeste said as they walked into the cave along the shoreline. "There's suppose to be a tunnel leading up to a door around here," she said.

"There it is," Donovan said pointing through the darkness.

"Where?"

"There."

"I don't see- ah, there it is," Celeste said after they had walked closer. "You've been eating your carrots I see."

"And whatever else the ministry wants me to eat."

"Of course," Celeste said. "We should wait here for the everyone else."

After a few minutes wait the first of the boats reached shore as the students clambered out. Two very drenched twins staggered out of their boat.

"You'll pay," Thayne of them vowed.

"How so?" Donovan asked crossing his arms. "I have no right to property or funds. That's right, they own my wand to my underpants, and can take either away."

"What would the Ministry of Magic do with your underpants?" Celeste asked turning towards him.

"I'd rather that remain a mystery," Donovan said truthfully with a frown.

"Your underpants will be all that's left after my father's through with you," Marcus said trudging to the shoreline, his shoes making a distinct squishing noise.

"Lacking the balls to do anything yourself? Need daddy to fight for you?" Donovan said taking after his personal drill instructor. "Bugger off or I'll use your own wands to physically bore a hole in both your foreheads," he threatened walking off with Celeste after Professor Hagrid who seemed to be intentionally ignoring the entire event.

"I don't think that will be the last of them," Celeste figured as she ascended the steps of Hogwarts. The clunking of Professor Hagrid's massive peg leg echoed down the stone stairwell.

"Nothing we can't handle," Donovan said like it was a homework assignment or upcoming Quidditch match.

Professor Hagrid led the first years through the small oak door that he had to bend over to get through. He led them down a corridor lined with suits of armor and pictures. Magnificent tapestries hung from the ceiling and walls were Donovan noticed several translucent silver figures drifting through the air lazily.

Donovan paused to look at a fairly knew painting of a seventh year boy stabbing Lord Voldemort with a fantastic sword. The paining depicted an epic time of war and strife flawlessly. The strange thing about it was that his wand was turned on himself. The Great Sacrifice of Harry Potter was expertly illustrated in this still painting. Donovan knew of Harry Potter who had mortally wounded Voldemort with the Sword of Gordric Gryffindor and then killed himself by his own wand, for he himself was the final Horcrux that had to be destroyed.

"This way yer' lot," Professor Hagrid boomed out to the first years.

The soon-to-be-sorted pupils of Hogwarts were led around a corner towards a great wooden double door braced with cast iron supports. A tall wizard, or who would appear so if Professor Hagrid was not present, was dressed in dark gray robes the color of an electrified late summer thunderstorm. He hastily taped the cigarette dangling in his mouth with his wand making it vanish upon noticing the incoming horde of young children. He looked as if he had lived a very active life, and was ready to find something more peaceful. A mat of ash-colored hair sat upon his head and he looked as if he had forgotten to shave this morning and showed possible signs of recovering from a slight hangover.

"Thanks Rubeus," he said in a friendly, but worn, voice.

"You be gent' with em'," Professor Hagrid said firmly patting him on the shoulder with a hand the size of a car tire, forcing his aged comrade into an hunched over position. The wizard grimaced slightly as if several vertebrae were crudely uprooted and relocated. He grunted in pain as he slowly strained his back.

"I'll try," he said painfully as Professor Hagrid discreetly, if possible for a man his mass along with a log sized peg leg, opened the doors to the great hall and shut the doors behind him.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," the man greeted as he indiscreetly scratched himself. "I'm Professor Weasley, I'm head of Gryffindor house and teach Defense Against the Dark Arts," he said with a warm smile, his deep blue eyes gleaming lustrously in the torch light. "Not to mention the Quidditch coach and your teacher for your flying lessons as well."

"I read about you on one of them frog cards on the way here!" a chubby muggle-born student piped.

"Ah yes," Professor Weasley said beaming. "I got a considerable collection of my own and will generously trade for anyone who has Agrippa or Ptolemy, but moving on," he said slapping two firm calloused hands together and rubbing them excitedly.

"You are about to be led into the great hall to be sorted into one of four houses," he explained as he cracked a shoulder loudly. "They are as follows: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," he said the later with some detest in his voice. "A year-long competition happens between these houses of point keeping. Do a good job or deed: get points. Do the opposite: lose them. Too easy," he said in a simple voice. "I may be one of the more lenient teachers of this school as far as rules go, but one thing I will not tolerate is any from of hazing or bullying. You think you're more important or _'superior'_ than anyone else I'll personally make your already insignificant life not worth living," he vowed in a very foreboding tone, one only acquired from hellish battlefields.

Professor Weasley paused to let this sink in. "Otherwise I'll do my best to be your most interesting teacher," he said on a happier note. He took a moment to check a pocket watch that hung from a gold chain attached to his belt within his robes. "Excellent," he said returning it to his pocket and snapping his fingers. His wand shot out of his sleeve magically towards his palm, he dexterously snagged it with his hand and flicked it at the great door making the massive double door unlatch and swing open.

The inward draft of the swinging door pulled at the First year's robes and hair, and nearly made Celeste stumble foreword being that she was so light and had wings that were snagged by the rushing air.

Professor Weasley snapped his fingers again and his wand flew back up is sleeve.

They began their journey down the legendary great hall escorted by Professor Weasley, whose gray robes billowed majestically.

Donovan gaped at the starlit ceiling above as a shooting star trailed across the sky and faded into nothingness. "I read that Rowena Ravenclaw charmed the ceiling herself in Hogwarts: A History," he recalled still stargazing at the enchanted ceiling.

"Donovan!" Celeste whispered in a harsh tone.

"What?" Donovan said not understanding what she was upset about until he realized he was unintentionally gliding across the great hall. "Sorry," he said grounding himself to the polished marble floor.

Some other students however stared at him wondering what they had just seen.

"What just happened?"

"They must be those half breeds-"

"Half what? Is that possible?"

"Careful, he might suck out - well you know."

Celeste and Donovan sighed in unison at their position. "Just got here and I already want to know how to turn invisible," she moaned as her wings drooped cheerlessly.

Professor Weasley performed an about-face to face the students when he stood by a stool where a tattered archaic hat sat.

"Now," he said to the students. "When I call your name from the list you will - the list," he said suddenly, giving himself a pat down and checking his robe pockets. "The list," he said again in mild panic. "Son of a Bogart," he muttered under his breath upon realizing he had no list. Several students couldn't retain themselves as a chorus of chuckles wafted over the hall.

"Forgot something?" the gentle voice of the Headmistress said holding up a scroll of parchment from behind the table. "I was dropped by your office to turn something in just before the feast to find this still on your desk," she explained with a smile.

"Thank you professor," Professor Weasley said taking the scroll from her.

"My pleasure," Professor McGonagall said in a kind aging voice.

"Where were we?" Professor Weasley said walking back to the stool. "Right. I call your name and you seat your little keister on this stool here. I'll put the sorting hat on that head of yours, don't mind the crazy old voice inside your head, and it will announce your designated house and you will join them at the corresponding table," he explained in a very unconventional way. "Let's get started," he said unrolling the parchment and running a hand through his gray hair.

"Jason Adams," he said while scratching his whiskery chin and holding the hat in his left hand.

The chubby muggle-born student who had noted that Professor Weasley was on the frog cards came foreword and sat himself on the wooden stool.

"Brace for impact kid," Professor Weasley warned just before he drooped the sorting hat over the youth's eyes.

A moment had passed before the hat bellowed out "Ravenclaw!"

"Blue and bronze, right over there Jason," Ron instructed him removing the hat from the new Ravenclaw as his house table cheered.

"Rachel Advant," he called out again. A small girl with pigtails skipped up to the stool and the hat was placed over her eyes.

"Hufflepuff!" the sorting hat bellowed out. The Hufflepuff table greeted her with an enthusiastic applause

"You know?" Professor Weasley said to the sorting hat. "When was the last time someone took you to the dry cleaners?" he said as he dusted it off. "Could spread lice for all I know."

"Just get on with the sorting," the sorting hat grumbled back, a number of the first years laughed at this.

The sorting continued. Timothy Bernard was the first Gryffindor to be sorted while, predictably, Marcus and Thayne Cypher where each sorted into Slytherin, both leaving a trail of water behind them.

"Celeste Dawn," Professor Weasley called out.

Celeste perked up at her name and walked over to the stool. A faint hum of whispers could be heard from all four tables; most likely people making comments about the massive wings she had folded behind her back.

"Hang on," Professor Weasley said whipping the stool off with his sleeve, some water was left behind by the Cypher Twins. "Kay, good to go," he said gesturing to the seat.

Celeste took sat down and tensed her muscles in preparation, as Professor Weasley let the hat fall over her eyes.

No more than a second passed before the hat declared "Gryffindor!"

Spence Douglass was sorted into Slytherin while Chelsea Fairweather was another Gryffindor.

Donovan's attention drifted towards the Slytherin table, were he was the key interest of a certain Prefect who pressed his fingertips together in anticipation.

"Peter Gallant," Professor Weasley called out.

A lanky boy with sandy hair made his way towards Professor Weasley and sat down on the stool.

"I knew a peter once, he posed as my pet rat for my first three years in Hogwarts," Professor Weasley said reminiscently.

Peter Gallant gave him a cocked eyebrow expression.

"Oh right," he said remembering what he was doing and placed the hat on his head.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat exclaimed.

The Ravenclaw table applauded welcomingly as an overjoyed Peter Gallant nearly left with the hat still on his head.

"Hey, I need that still," Weasley Professor said taking it back. "You can have him all you want after the sorting is over."

"No you can't," the sorting hat argued moodily.

Professor Weasley chuckled along with the rest of the school as his eyes trailed down to the next name. The smile on his face faded away as he became lost for words, not believing his own eyes. His fist attempt at calling out the name was an inaudible croak.

He looked up from the parchment at the group of remaining first yeas with a pale face. He spoke in a whisper, but it still managed to be carried over the entire hall. "Donovan Granger."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

**Authors Note:** Yes, I know the last thing that would happen is that Ronald Weasley would never ever, not in a million years, become a Hogwarts professor, but hey, it's my story, what are you going to do?

I've checked, and there is no mention of Harpies being a magical creature in the Harry Potter universe, except in a quidditch team in Wales, the Holyhead Harpies. So that leads to my conclusion that there must be Harpies in the Harry Potter universe, and they are up to interpretation seeing that they are not described any further in all the books and websites that I referred too.

Half Dementor? Not possible, I did the research. They don't have genders and whatnot, so it is not compatible, but hey, it's my story!

Unless you scored a 'Troll' in your common sense course, you've probably noticed that Celeste and Donovan have something going on. Duh… They're first years right now, it's going to be a while before fireworks start launching, don't badger me about putting them together before I should.

Seeing that I haven't much a life I will be working on the next chapter constantly. You can't rush art, as notably stated in Toy Story 2…

I would not have any objection to reviews as well. (Hint-hint)


	2. Chapter 2

**Dark Griffin**

Chapter Two

An irritating buzz of whispers came from the four tables, which was much louder than what Celeste had to tolerate. Donovan snapped to attention firmly upon hearing his name and marched forward.

"That's him."

"The half Dementor?"

"I don't remember hearing anything about a half Dementor before."

"You think he is the only one?"

"I hope so."

Professor Weasley had no charming remark or unconventional course of action. He just stared down at Donovan vaguely with a slack dry mouth. "Sit here son," he said in a calm voice.

Donovan took his place at the stool were the gears of destiny began to turn and fates were decided by some old enchanted wizard hat. The great hall became uneasily silent. Donovan had the feeling that everyone was replaced with wax statues when he wasn't looking. They watched him apprehensively without moving or making a sound, like the sorting hat was going to convulse and burst in flame as soon as it touched a single hair on his head.

Donovan heard Professor Weasley say, "You choose," before he placed the hat slowly on his head and the brim slipped over his eyes.

"I choose," Donovan said silently to himself.

"Interesting to say the least," a voice growled in his head. "First of your kind I have ever seen. You won't be easy, I can tell that. Everyone is expecting you to be sorted into Slytherin I bet. Wouldn't be out of place there."

"I choose," Donovan said in a slightly louder voice.

"Sorry boy, that's my job. Just sit back and let me find out where you should go. Excellent mind, and its clearly hasn't been wasted I can see. A bit of a temper? That's understandable," the voice continued.

"I choose," Donovan said once again, this time he might have actually said it.

The voice chuckled cruelly inside Donovan's mind. "You want to choose eh? You even know where you want to go at all? Doesn't matter what house I put you in anyway. The ministry is going to make every other choice anyhow."

"I choose," Donovan said more forcefully.

"I just might as well put you in Hufflepuff in that case. But you would probably scare all them out of their own dormitories. Just need to pick at you a bit more."

"I choose… Gryffindor," Donovan said difficultly.

"Certainly brave to take me on. What's this? Your mother was in Gryffindor. Well I guess I can let it slide seeing it that way. All right, you want Gryffindor, you'll get-"

"Gryffindor!" the sorting hat boomed out, its voice echoing in the great hall.

No applause came, no traditional greeting, nothing. Professor Weasley lifted the hat off his head and whispered, "Nice choice."

Donovan looked at the Gryffindor table to his left that refused to cheer for him. He could see everyone trying to figure how it had happened. The silence was a cruel unwelcoming kind that felt like some cold ghostly fist was constricting his heart. Not one Gryffindor from his table would accept a half Dementor.

He then heard the sound of a pair of hands slapping together slowly. Donovan looked to see Celeste was forcing her self to clap for him, clearly taking every ounce of courage she had.

Behind him he heard Professor Weasley, head of Gryffindor house after all, clap his large leathery hands together. Slowly more and more Gryffindors joined the delayed applause as Donovan made his way to his table.

Donovan felt strange. He finally had something that the ministry could neither give nor take away; he was a Gryffindor, just another student of Hogwarts like everyone else. He felt normal, for the first time in his life he stood a chance of fitting in.

Donovan arrived at the table and sat next to Celeste who was still red from forcing herself to applaud for him. "Thanks," he said to her.

"Francis Green," Professor Weasley called out. A very short skinny boy with an enormous head of red curly hair presented himself. "Is this going to fit?" Professor Weasley said as he examined the boy's head. "Take the entire tribe to scalp you," he said managing to situate the millennium old hat on his head.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat called out.

"Look at him," said the blonde sixth year that had visited the compartment earlier and ogled at Donovan like he was a fluffy newborn pup, "He so cute. That guy wouldn't hurt anyone, he's ever got one of those collar things on."

Donovan was lost for words briefly. "Thanks," he managed to say.

"What's this I heard about you being ministry property?" Timothy Bernard said from across the table. "No offense."

"See this?" Donovan said pulling his collar back to show his garrote more clearly. "It's called a garrote," he told him. "If I disobey or try to escape or anything it will choke me until I comply or until I pass out. It acts as a locater if they need to know where I am. If they ever want to they can just snap their fingers and it will decapitate me," he said straightforwardly.

Timothy Bernard was utterly speechless for a reasonable period of time. "That… sucks," he said difficulty.

The Gryffindors nearby where equally flabbergasted, and found it difficult to look at him.

"So, what about you?" Celeste said to Timothy trying to break the uneasiness.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Thank you Professor Weasley for anther entertaining sorting ceremony," Headmistress McGonagall said as she took the podium. She adjusted her square glasses before continuing.

"Before we can begin the long awaited feast I ask for your patience as I trouble you with several brief announcements. First I would like us to welcome our new Herbology teacher, Professor Longbottom."

A polite applause greeted the wizard who looked to have been recovering from some overly prolonged journey. What was left on his balding head was light brown hair. He gestured back to the school with a calloused hand still somewhat covered in earth.

"Back from the Amazon if I'm correct?" she asked.

"And glad to be here for a change," Professor Longbottom said as he took his seat. "Somewhere with four seasons and I remain on top of the food chain."

"As always the Forbidden Forest is strictly forbidden, otherwise we would probably be calling it by a different name," the headmistress said with a smile.

"To add to the fact the danger of this place Professor Hagrid has informed he has gotten a warning from the Centaurs that a rogue Erumpent has been spotted. It can't get on Hogwarts grounds, but it can get to you if you'd be foolish as to venture into the forest."

"As my final announcement is that Professor Weasley will be starting an Offense Against the Dark Arts club called Lotus, or Liege Of The Uniformed Students. All years are welcome to join, and anyone interested in the field of magical law enforcement and Defense Against the Dark Arts is strongly encouraged to do so. There will be meetings every Friday beginning two weeks from now. Anyone who is interested may see him after class hours," Professor McGonagall stated with a slight nod to Professor Weasley who nodded it return.

"And with that said and nothing more to say, I expect that feast we've all been waiting for should begin," she concluded.

The empty table before them was magically adorned with the finest foods Donovan had seen, however his hopes were brutally crushed when he noticed a prepared meal just for him waiting in front of him.

It consisted of non-buttered steamed corn and lima beans, something that looked like gray mashed potatoes, asparagus, raw carrots, crusty bread that resembled hardtack, and a slab of artificial protein. Donovan sighed regretfully before he took the vitamins that sat at the corner of his plate and swallowed them in a single gulp.

"What the bloody hell is that?" Timothy said looking across the table in middle of serving himself turkey stuffing.

"Dinner," Donovan said plainly as he bit into a crispy brick of bread while trying not to look at a towering shortcake with fluffy whip cream and topped with ripe strawberries.

"Are you even allowed to eat sweets?" Celeste asked as she poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice.

"I haven't told you yet did I?" Donovan said moving on to his second slice of bread. "I am not permitted to consume alcohol, caffeine, narcotics, artificial sweeteners, concentrated forms of lipids or sucrose, Tobacco products and any other form of nicotine, steroids-"

"-I get the idea," Celeste interrupted despairingly. "So no chance your going to enjoy anything off this table?"

"I got my eye on that bowl of fruit over there," Donovan told her. "But this comes first," he said gesturing to his food.

"Ah, well that's good," noted Timothy.

"Hey Donovan," an unfamiliar voice said.

Celeste and Donovan looked over to see an approaching sixth year Head boy, and apparently the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, walking over to them. He looked to a beater according to his build, if Donovan had to guess, and was possibly very popular. The black hair and tan skin suggested Italian descent.

"Yes sir?" Donovan said standing up.

"Right, military discipline," he said to himself. "You can sit down. I'm Ruggero, but everyone just calls me Rug. I've been told to give you this," he said handing him a black cast iron key.

"Oh no," Donovan said taking it.

"Apparently you have your own quarters, lucky bastard," said Rug smiling envyingly.

"I think 'lucky' is the last word you should use to describe me," he said sadly. "Just when I thought I was going to get it easy."

"What you mean?" Celeste said furrowing his eyebrows.

"Hard to explain," Donovan said putting the key in his pocket.

"Well hey there," Rug said turning his attention to Celeste. "Your sister told me a lot about you," he said smiling.

"She didn't tell you about the first time I used magic did she?" she said suddenly turning a brilliant shade of scarlet.

"Loads of times," he said, then his smile faded somewhat. "I'd like to know exactly how one would manage to get all the toilets in an five star hotel to regurgitate."

"I'm going to kill Jen," she said crossly, her feathery wings puffing up angrily.

"Don't get your feathers in a bunch," Rug said laughing. The sight of Celeste infuriated was amusing to say the least, seeing that most of the time she was a shy peaceable individual.

"All the toilets?" Donovan said. "That's a nice bit of magic for a first time," he said scratching his chin. "Unless you're a muggle trying to enjoy your vacation I suppose."

"Well, before this conversation goes past regurgitating toilets I think I should leave," Rug said as he got up and did just that.

Donovan had started sawing at the protein slab with his knife vigorously. "Why can't the just process this and serve it to me in a paste?" he muttered under his breath.

"Don't give them any ideas," Celeste warned as she prodded a baked potato with her fork guiltily.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"This is nice," Timothy said looking around the Gryffindor common admiringly. Warm fires gently glowed deep orange with squishy leather chairs positioned around the room.

Celeste looked up at the ceiling at an elaborate chandelier consisting of amber and bright yellow candle flames enchanted to burn eternally. "I could get use to this," she confessed.

"Common," Timothy said to Donovan. "Lets see what they got you."

Donovan frowned slightly before following Celeste and timothy up the stairs towards the boy's dormitories. He ascended the spiraling staircase, passing the first year dormitories, then the second, until he passed the seventh year's dormitories.

The next level ended at a large cherry wood door. Celeste and Timothy waited eagerly for him.

"Common," Timothy urged.

Donovan sighed as he opened he removed the cold black metal key from his robes and unlocked the door moments right after pulling it open. Cold air rushed that seemed to claw at one's skin with icy talons rushed out and engulfed the three first years.

The room presented before them was small and confined, much like a prison cell. The air was colder than it was outside, and the bed provided seemed less inviting than the cold stone floor. The view was barred and heavily obscured by smoke.

At first, what sounded like exploding raindrops outside echoed faintly.

"Gun fire?" Celeste said breathlessly.

"Incoming!" a voice screamed desperately from out the window as a shrieking noise tore through the air. An intense flare of light blinded Celeste and Timothy came from the window a portion of a second before the entire room jolted viciously. The roar of the explosion seemed to hit one in the chest, winding them without being hit and than deafening them temporarily.

Gray dust sprinkled from the ceiling, as Celeste had to grab Donovan's arm to stay on her feet.

"Right flank covering fire! Left flank advance!" a voice hollered over the noise, clearly the voice of a commanding official who was trying to stay rational to his best ability as his men died around him in the dozens. Timothy stumbled for the door and slammed it shut, the horrifying pandemonium of the battlefield instantly disappearing.

Timothy collapsed, as if the effort of shutting a door drained him severely. "What… the… bloody… hell… was… that?" he said between breaths.

"My personal barracks," Donovan said casually. Celeste was still had both her arms wrapped around his, she quivered slightly with every small breath she took.

"How do you sleep?" Celeste asked as she let go of his arm.

"I manage," Donovan said. "Human's have an knack for adaptation, something I must have picked up."

"You talk like you're not human," Timothy said whipping his face off with his sleeve.

"I'm not," Donovan confirmed.

"I mean not at all," Timothy explained. "You still have human blood in your veins."

Donovan didn't say anything in return for a moment. He gave him an unreadable nod, neither confirming his statement, nor denying it. "I'm going to bed," he said opening the door, the mayhem of muggle war echoing down the stairs.

"Back blast area clear!" A solider hollered. The scream of an anti-tank rocket thundered across the simulated battleground Donovan would have to sleep to and shut the door behind him and bolted it shut.

A small shower of dust and chipped rock fell down on top of Donovan as he disrobed himself and beat the dust of the wool covers before crawling beneath them.

"Flare!" a solider shouted over the roar of a machinegun nest. A bright square of light was illuminated on the wall opposite of his window and slowly arched its way across the room.

Donovan curled up under his covers and hugged his knees. "Go and fight your war, and kill your enemies. Don't make me do it for you," he said to himself, something he had never considered before.

Several explosions pounded the non-existent, however very realistic, modern muggle battlefield outside, Donovan's barracks vibrated as an orange fiery glow lit up the night sky outside. A deafening sonic boom and the screeching drone of jet engines were heard afterwards as F-22 raptors passed the magically simulated city.

Despite the mayhem Donovan soon fell asleep, and for the first time in his entire life, as far as he knew, he dreamt.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Donovan awoke in middle of the night; apparently the fighting had temporally ceased. He knew it didn't end all together, it never did. And somehow the absence of war roused him.

He sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, and decided to make his way to the bathroom. He pushed open the door, leaving it ajar behind him, and he descended the cold stone steps barefoot, only wearing gray boxers and a black T-shirt.

Donovan entered the common room, the fires burning brightly, but strangely he felt no heat from them as he passed them and turned the brass knob on the door of the Gryffindor Boys bathroom.

Donovan headed for the sink and looked in the mirror. His hair was in somewhat of disarray, covered in gray stone dust along with the rest of his body from his continuously deteriorating ceiling.

He thrashed his head around; a cloud of powdered rock was produced from this course of action. He reached for the faucet and turned on the cold water, and began to rinse his hair and face in the stream of cold water.

Blinded by his own wet long brown hair he groped for a red and gold towel applying it to his face and drying his hair. Donovan set the towel down and looked back at the mirror.

Instantly he bolted in complete shock. He had scene magical mirrors before, but they had all reflected his exact image.

His reflection, no, someone else's, stared coldly back at him. It was girl. Her eyes were so brown they could be mistaken for black voids; wavy dark brown hair fell from her head. She glared icily back at him, he knew that glare; it was his own after all.

Donovan examined the reflection further, trying to figure out why there was female version of himself where his own reflection should have been.

"Who are you?" he demanded forcefully at the mirror.

The girl stared at him with Donovan's personal combat-ready scowl. Was this someone's idea of a joke?

"Answer me!" he ordered making his stand. She continued not to respond, but just looked at him in hateful, but disciplined manner. In a fit of confusion and rage he reeled a fist back and threw it at her face, his face, no, defiantly her face.

The glass mirror shattered as his fist crashed into it. Shards of glass spilled onto the floor at Donovan's feet.

He now looked at his own, cracked and distorted reflection, in what was left of the mirror.

Donovan looked down at his feet, the entire floor dangerously covered in sharp shards. He sighed and gently pushed of the floor weightlessly.

He agreed with himself that being half Dementor had its advantages as he glided over the floor without setting foot covered in the splinters of the broken mirror.

He pushed the door open trying to wonder weather or not he actually saw a different, but similar, person staring at him through the mirror. He had nearly tripped over something that was not on the floor of the common room when he had entered it the bathroom just a minute ago.

He looked down the see two strange white things lying on the floor. At first he expected them to be oddly shaped pillows, but they were both stained red in one end.

"What the?" he said bending over to look at them closer.

Then it hit him, he hadn't noticed what they were, not with them being attached to a body. Donovan momentarily choked on his own breath as he gawked horrorstruck at Celeste's severed wings.

"Celeste!" he called out looking around the room. "CELESTE!" he cried louder.

He heard a faint breathless murmur of pain in the corner of the room. Donovan took flight and flew to the other end of the common room over the furniture and various obstacles and landed next to a crumpled form on the ground.

Two bloody stubs of flesh protruded outside of her back were her wings would have normally have been. She wore a simple white night gown with lace trim, which was soaked in blood. Her face was in the floor, her black hair spread wildly.

Donovan felt sick looking at this. He had seen simulations of enemies and allies both, dead or moments away from it. But this was different somehow. He was going to have to put a tunicate on each wing stub, which would be extremely painful, maybe put her in shock. He'd have to comfort her first. Maybe he'd be able to get her tell him who did this so he could make an arrest. Part of him wanted to disregard law and kill whomever responsible slowly, savoring the criminal's vain attempts of escape, but he was needed here.

"Celeste," he said kneeling next to her in a soft voice.

She moaned weakly. Still alive, barely…

"I'm going to roll you on your side," he said placing his hand on her body gently; she quivered slightly to his touch. Donovan slowly turned Celeste over on her side. She whimpered lightly underneath a curtain of glossy midnight hair that fell over her face.

"Let's get that out of your eyes," he said sweeping Celeste's hair gently back, her silky black hair gently caressing his callused hands.

Donovan looked into her pale sapphire eyes that were shinning with pain; two small rivulets of glistening tears streamed down her face. Her lips quivered lightly as she tried to smile at him. Donovan's hand rested on her smooth flushed check.

"Donovan?" she whimpered weakly.

"Yeah Celeste?" he whispered back delicately.

"Please stay with me while-"

"-Of course," Donovan interrupted.

Celeste actually smiled through everything she was going through. "While you let me die," she finished, tears now flowing from her eyes.

Donovan choked in shock of what she asked for. "You can make it through this," he reassured her.

Celeste's smile faded slightly. "But I don't want to."

Donovan was just about to ask why, when he looked down at her neck. He gasped in complete shock; the horror of what had been done to her finally became apparent. Around her neck a black leather garrote, just like his own, the very device that ensured his unwilling servitude to the Ministry of Magic.

Donovan gasped, inhaling a mouthful of dust as he sat up in bed. Drenched in cold sweet, still coughing from the inhaled dust, he staggered out of his bed towards the opposite side of his room.

Collapsing over the gray cracked toilet bowl the youth vomited into it. After expelling his well digested dinner from last night he collapsed on the icy stone floor.

What was that all about? Is that what they mean when they talk about a nightmare?

Shaking slightly Donovan climbed to his feet and wobbled over to the very shabby sink he was provided in his personal room. Turning the only faucet it had he rinsed the vomit out of his mouth and then drank from the tap directly.

An artillery bombardment was taking place outside his window, great bright explosions lit up the night sky seconds before a bone-rattling thunderclap hit his barracks.

Donovan, now catching his breath, felt very odd, mainly because he never felt this way before. He was uncomfortable, before attending Hogwarts he would never feel much of anything after a day of training. He'd never felt anything. Nothing was confusing, it all made sense, do what you were told, speak when spoken to, when in doubt ask your trainers who will brusquely ensure you will never misunderstand the situation or make the same mistake again. Ever since he got on the train a whole knew side of him surfaced, more like was born. Maybe it was his human side. Was his humanity and Dementorian heritage seamlessly fussed together, or was there a bold line between the two? Was it good to keep them separate, or should he try to define his own being.

Donovan scoffed at his own foolishness. None of it mattered. What was he going to achieve? Whatever he gained would ultimately benefit the ministry, anything else they would correct so he met the standards they set for him. Not caring about tomorrow or people he knew made life so easy before, though he figured he wouldn't be able to change that now. Perhaps life wasn't meant to be easy.

"What am I thinking?" he said to himself. "I don't have a life, I have vital signs. I don't have a purpose, I have predetermined standards. I don't have clothes, I have a uniform. I don't have rights, I have orders. I don't have a name, I have a number."

Donovan looked across the sink at the grimy stained mirror that warped his reflection slightly. Only the bottom left hand corner was good for getting a decent reflection in the morning. He breathed heavily, though he was not recovering from a physical exercise. His nerves trembled, but he was not in middle of a crisis that called for adrenalin. His skin perspired, but he was not overheating, in fact he was quite cold, thanks to the accommodations the ministry gave him.

"You have dreams," a little annoying voice inside his head spoke to him. "You have fears. You have desires," it continued to speak to him. "You have yourself."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Good morning Donovan," Celeste said sitting down next to him in the great hall. Donovan was finishing the last few spoonfuls of his cold gray unsweetened oatmeal. Celeste stretched, her wings spanning out and her slender arms and rising above her head while yawning, which sounded more like a kitten mewing than anything else.

"I'm sorry?" Donovan said raising his eyebrows questionably.

"Good morning," she repeated as she folded her white wings behind her back.

Donovan looked around him to as if looking for an answer to present itself. "What?" he said trying to figure out what she meant.

"Something wrong?" she said looking at him becoming confused.

"Not that I'm aware of," Donovan said. "What do you mean by 'good morning' exactly? It's just like any other," he said with furrowed eyebrows.

The spoon in Celeste's hand slipped out due to her lack of grip and clattered loudly on the polished marble floor. "No one's ever said 'good morning' to you before," she concluded.

"Should they have?" Donovan said still puzzled as he leaned down and picked up her spoon.

"It's how people say hi to each other in the morning," she explained awkwardly taking her spoon back.

"Really?" Donovan said not believing her entirely. "In what parts is that a custom?"

Celeste gasped. It finally made sense to her. Never in his entire life had he played with other children, nor did he receive any form of parental love or guidance. Everyday he was treated like a solider, not a child, and never given a break. Donovan wasn't brainwashed. Brainwashed was being a certain way and then changed to believe or act differently. Donovan had it worse; he was conditioned from the first day he was born. Not trained to kill, but raised to kill.

"Everywhere they speak English," she said uncomfortably. "And then some."

"Interesting," Donovan said nodding uncertainly.

"Yeah," Celeste said in a depressed mood as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. "Interesting…"

"I noticed people like to sleep in late," Donovan said offhandedly.

Celeste blinked in mild disbelief and looked around the great hall. Not even a fourth of the students had made it down to breakfast yet. She then looked to Donovan's finished breakfast tray, even when it was completely eaten; it still did not looked like a very interesting meal.

"Nor do they exercise in the morning," he added.

"What time do you get up?" she asked looking at him.

"Zero four fifteen hundred hours," he said offhandedly.

Celeste blinked. "Huh?"

"Oh," Donovan said snapping his fingers trying to convert military time into standard civilian time. "That's… four fifteen ante meridiem."

"Ante merid - what?" Celeste said looking at him confused.

"Oh, sorry," Donovan said putting a palm to his forehead. "Four fifteen A.M."

"Four fifteen in the morning?" she said in a very astonished tone.

"Something wrong?" he asked not understanding her exactly.

"What's your morning schedule?" Celeste asked.

"I wake up at zero four fifteen hundred hours and then have fifteen minutes before I begin physical conditioning," he said offhandedly, like someone else explaining whether they eat breakfast before or after their morning shower.

"What's physical conditioning?"

"Depends, it changes from day to day," he said with a shrug. "Today was more focused on running than anything else."

"How much did you run today?" she asked unable to look away from him.

"A three quarter mile sprint and a six mile standard run," he said like it was nothing very important.

"Then?" Celeste said trying to keep herself composed.

"A very long shower," he said with a halfhearted smile.

Celeste returned the expression, however somewhat diluted in pity for her friend.

"I don't think there's another child your age that has to work as hard as you do everyday," she said honestly.

"Is that so?" Donovan said furrowing his eyebrows. "I never thought about other children before."

"I think that's because the ministry doesn't tell you about other children," she said setting her check on her fist while still admiring him.

"Why should they?" he asked.

"They don't want you becoming jealous," she said with a hurt look in her stunning sapphire eyes.

"I think I'm above that," he said forwardly.

"I hope so," she agreed with him.

"Good morning," Timothy said taking a seat across from them, his blonde hair in an uncombed mess.

"Good morning," Celeste said cheerfully.

Donovan looked to Celeste and then to Timothy hesitating briefly. "Good morning… Timothy," he said sounding quiet unnatural, like he was being forced to do so at wandpoint.

Timothy gave him a quizzical look. "Bad dream?" he guessed off the top of his head.

Donovan's jaw dropped. He was an expert Occlumens bordering on a complete master. Even if someone were able to penetrate his mind with Legilimency he would have surely detected it. "How did you know?" he said completely awestruck.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"So… how's your dormitory?" Donovan asked as checked his field-combat watch.

Donovan and Celeste sat together in the second row to the front in the transfiguration classroom, their first class of the day. Professor Vaisey had a few minutes before he was due.

Celeste hesitated, probably due to the fact hers where far more adequate than Donovan's. "They're okay," she said difficultly. "I wish some of the other girls would leave me alone though," she said in a slightly embarrassed undertone.

Donovan's dark brown eyes narrowed dangerously. "Are they mistreating you?" he said in a lethal tone.

"Oh no," she said realizing how she had worded her statement. "They just can't stay off of me, they keep wanting to dress me up and stuff, like I'm a play doll or something," she explained quickly. "Kind of annoying really. You know that blonde sixth year? She's very persistent on dieing my wings a light pink. She's trying to decide between misty rose and cotton candy."

Donovan relaxed at hearing this harmless explanation. "Oh," he said realizing how he had suddenly become protective over her. "Pink wings," he noted offhandedly with an interested nod and an amused expression.

"Shut up," she muttered under her breath.

The door in front of the room swung open as a professor strutted from his office. Desert sand colored hair fell down from his head and was pulled into a stubby ponytail with a few intentionally free stands hanging lose. Gunmetal black robes fluttered in his wake as he advanced front and center.

"I'm Professor Vaisey, head of Slytherin and, obviously, your transfiguration teacher," he explained in an articulate tone. "Let's get started," he said removing a piece of paper from his robes pocket.

"Anderson Edward," he said carelessly.

A Slytherin boy raised a hand slightly not even looking away from the student he was whispering too. Professor Vaisey seemed to ignore this complete lack of discipline.

"Baker Rachel," Professor Vaisey said looking up from his parchment.

"Here," a Slytherin girl called from the other side of the room, professor Vaisey gave an approving nod to her.

"Bernard Timothy," he said lazily, like the name was meaningless.

Timothy, caught somewhat off guard, hesitated before saying "Uh, here-"

"-Cypher Marcus," he said ignoring Timothy entirely.

In the far back of the room one of the Slytherin twins smiled at hearing his own name said by someone else, as if it gave him satisfaction, and seemed to relish the moment before saying "here."

"Cypher Thayne," Professor Vaisey said looking at Marcus's counterpart who sat right next him.

"Here," he said smugly in the same savoring manor as his identical twin.

"Dawn Celeste," he articulated with a raised eyebrow.

Celeste's wings perked up slightly upon hearing her name called. "Oh - here," she said in her light breathless tone that seemed to make Donovan feel at ease for some unknown reason.

Professor Vaisey did a quick glance at her and then attempted to read the next name on the list, then took a much longer double take at her, a partially disgusted one at that. Several Slytherins muffled their laughter at their head's behavior of realizing Celeste was half-harpy. He shook his head lightly to himself like the entire world was going to the dogs and continued reading out names.

Celeste looked more hurt than ever. Donovan wanted to put what he was trained to do to use just then, he wanted to hear Professor Vaisey scream for mercy, but receive none. It would be so effortless to tear his rib cage open with his bare hands, like a pair of double doors, exposing his pulsing organs while he vainly demanded for his soul to be devoured so he could feel no more pain. White callused knuckles popped beneath his desk as his fingernails dug into his palm.

"Douglas Spence," Professor Vaisey said somewhat distantly, like he was recovering from just looking at Celeste.

A Slytherin boy, who was trying to choke down his guffaws, raised a hand being unable to speak to let his Professor Vaisey know he was present.

Professor Vaisey nodded with understanding at his position and called out "Fairweather Chelsea."

"Here," a Gryffindor girl said quickly, trying not to draw attention to herself.

Professor Vaisey smiled to himself, having taught a Gryffindor her rightful place in his classroom. He read the next name but didn't speak it at first. He smirked menacingly as he looked up from his list. "Unit one zero one alpha," he said in a loud clear voice.

His name was written as Donovan Granger on the list, knew it. If his name was Donovan Granger on the sorting list the night before, it surely would have been so on his attendance list.

Donovan stood up from his seat and snapped to attention. "Unit one zero one alpha present sir," he said in a firm tone, as if daring Professor Vaisey to meet him like a man.

"So," the head of Slytherin said giving him a mildly curious look. "I received a letter from the ministry that you are to follow any and all orders I give you, that true unit one zero one alpha?"

"Not entirely true sir," Donovan told him still standing up. Celeste was busy kneading her hands together nervously while appearing to be interested in the cover of her transfiguration book before her.

"Oh really? How so unit one zero one alpha?" he said with mock interest, loving how he could say Donovan's unit number over and over.

"Sir, I am not to follow orders given by any and all professors that involve military action, self damage or destruction, illegal actions, harm to any students or other professors, orders that defy school regulations, and anything that may hinder my ability to combat the enemy, sir," Donovan explained rigidly.

"That makes sense," Professor Vaisey said with a gentle nod. "So I guess I won't be receiving any late or incomplete homework assignments from you in that case," he said with a cold smile.

"No sir," Donovan returned back.

"I know it's becoming of you, unit one zero one alpha, but that dog collar must go. I do think it is against the school dress code," he said looking at the black garrote that was permanently fastened around Donovan's neck.

"Impossible sir," Donovan told him. "My garrote can not be removed."

Professor Vaisey frowned. "Why exactly can't it, unit one zero one alpha?"

"It ensures obedience and discipline sir. If I disobey any order it will contract and strangle me until I comply with my orders or lose consciousness sir," he explained.

Professor Vaisey grinned maliciously upon hearing this. "Wonderful," he said in an amazed undertone.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

After a two and a half hour long session of transfiguring pebbles into marbles that felt longer than it should have been Donovan and Celeste pushed their way out of the classroom towards the great hall.

"I can't believe him," Celeste fumed tiredly. "How can such a horrible person become teacher anyhow?"

"He never actually said anything incriminating," Donovan told her as he made his way down the hallway. "He knows how to evade the law. You can't prevent someone for giving you a dirty look or asking you straightforward questions."

"I haven't known you for too long," Celeste said giving him a sideways glance, "But you look like you have a plan."

Donovan shrugged. "I know what to do when he does say something he shouldn't," he said with a shrug.

"You're not going to fight him," she protested, dodging a fifth year Slytherin who put himself right in her way on purpose.

"Not unless he resists arrest," Donovan said with an inward smile.

Celeste said nothing for a moment until she understood what Donovan actually declared. "What?" she said halting in middle of the corridor to the great hall.

"Not if he resists arrest," Donovan repeated as he faced her.

"You can arrest people?" she said with wide blue eyes.

"Ministry property with ministry authority," Donovan explained. "Let's keep walking," he advised her.

"Do, you know, have one of those badges?" Celeste asked walking by his side.

"Got to."

Celeste nodded vaguely in partially dazed. "Most kids imagine about having one of those," she noted.

"And I'm the lucky one who has the real thing?" Donovan finished for her.

"Well… I wouldn't go as far as to say lucky," she said blushing slightly trying to keep him from seeing her face while still walking along side him.

Donovan nodded, with nothing to say, as they walked into the great hall.

"What's our next class after lunch?" Celeste asked as she tried to not make eye contact to a certain blonde sixth year Gryffindor.

"We are provided with one hour of time for consumption of our twelve hundred meal, then all Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first years are required to be present at -"

"-Donovan," Celeste said earnestly, her wings tucking up behind her back shyly, "you can just tell me what class we have next."

Donovan suddenly became very warm and humid within his black Hogwarts robes and became very self-aware of how he sounded when he talked. "Defense against the dark arts," he said in a slight murmur.

After lunch Donovan and Celeste, trailed by several other first years from Hufflepuff, walked down the north wing on the first floor towards Defense against the dark arts.

"Seriously," Celeste criticized with a hopeless tone, "how could you have never seen a teddy bear before?"

"You still haven't explained to me what the primary function of one is yet," Donovan retorted.

"See those suits of armor there?" she said pointing at a row of glistening steel body armor fixated at a presentation of arms. "What are they for?"

"Emergency armaments and protective gear in case of a siege?" Donovan said with a shrug.

Celeste groaned inwardly. "They don't have a intended purpose other than stand there and look pretty," she explained moodily. One of the suits of armor gave an insulted cough.

"Why?" Donovan said in a completely lost tone.

Celeste made a very frustrated expression as she blew back a black stand of hair that fell in her blue eyes. "They're just for decorations, like medals on a uniform or a flag," she simplified.

"Ah," Donovan said now understanding entirely. "No intended purpose, at least not a tactical one."

"Exactly, it just something to entertain a child," she said with a shrug.

"I remember the first time the ministry gave me a toy," Donovan said distantly. "It was this funny puzzle. I was five years old. They taught me how to take it apart and put it together, how all the parts worked together in unison, sliding and turning all at the right time. The game was to disassemble and put if together as fast as possible."

Celeste furrowed her eyebrows trying to figure out exactly what Donovan was describing. "What was the toy they gave you?"

"I asked them what it was and they told me it was a nine millimeter Beretta M-9 semiautomatic pistol. Then I asked them what it was for," Donovan said with a simple naturalness in his voice.

Celeste put a brought a hand up to her mouth while gasping I shock. She halted in the corridor; Donovan walked a few paces ahead of her before he noticed. "How old did you say you were then?"

Slowly he looked over his shoulder. "Five, when my conditioning began. I was taught the basics on both magical and muggle combat, various magical languages, military science and history, magical politics, multiple verities of hand to hand combat, human and magical creature anatomy-"

"-Stop," Celeste interrupted. Watery blue eyes found a very difficult time finding cold dark brown eyes. "Did they ever teach you about god?"

Donovan looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "You mean monotheistic philosophy? I was informed about it in my magical archeology education and notified it was a vain conjecture in ancient times to bring reason to a world no one understood remotely," he said with a plain indifference in his voice. "Did they leave something out?" he said reading her expressions.

"Yeah… they did," said Celeste faintly as she wiped her eyes. "I'll try to explain after Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"I thought I was going to help you transfigure a pebble into a marble," Donovan said giving her a straightforward look.

"That can wait."

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Celeste and Donovan sat in the third row of the class that seemed fairly interested in their lesson. The classroom air hinted of cigarette smoke, undoubtedly from Professor Weasley. Donovan noted the complete lack of professionalism on his part, much unlike any trainer he ever had before.

"Going to do a head count to make sure I have everyone," Professor Weasley explained to the first year Hufflepuff and Gryffindors. "When I point at you sit down, but you all got to be standing up first for it to work though," he said like it wasn't so obvious.

The students got to feet as professor Wesley began counting out loud. Clean-shaven this time, and wearing olive colored robes; he appeared to be somewhat more professional than he did at the sorting the day before, however his manner just as leisurely and comical as before.

"Sixty one – sixty two – sixty three…" he said trailing off after counting the last student and then looked at his door expectantly.

Two very exhausted Hufflepuff students burst through the door.

"And there we are," he said with a gentle smile.

"Sorry we got lost," on of them explained.

"It happens," Professor Weasley said with an understanding nod. "You can sit down anywhere that's left and we can get this Broom in the air."

The two Hufflepuffs did so without questioning his generosity.

"Alright. I'm professor Weasley, yes, the one who probably been told about, and this is the place where your learn how to fight the bad guys. Simple," he said with shrug. "Except it rarely is."

"Who here knows exactly what a Bogart is?" he asked the class delving into the field of dark arts.

Donovan's hand shot up instantly, taking Celeste very much off guard. Several other hands followed suit a little more diffidently.

Professor Weasley looked at Donovan with misty eyes and a reminiscent smile for a few moments. "Yes Donovan?" he said in a softer tone than what he normal used.

Slightly perturbed momentarily by Professor Weasley's attitude Donovan hesitated. "Sir," he said standing up and standing at attention. "Bogart's are creatures with the ability to alter their appearance to that which one finds more frightening, particularly one's phobia if the target has one, sir. They dwell generally in dark secluded area's and prefer to be left alone and will preemptively defend oneself if disturbed, sir. This leads to the problematic circumstance that the true from of a Bogart is unknown, sir," he reported in a military fashion.

Professor Weasley appeared to be slightly taken aback by this explanation. He muttered something under his breath to himself. "True on all accounts," he said to his pupils.

"Permission to take my seat sir?" Donovan inquired as he continued to stand at attention.

"Yes go ahead. I don't prefer being called sir, mainly because I don't believe I qualify as one, professor will do. Anyone here happen to know how to kill a Bogart? Aside from a wand that is," he said cracking all his fingers at once.

Donovan's hand flew up in the air once more, and once more making Celeste flinch in shock.

"Would you calm down?" she whispered to him.

"I'm pretty sure you know Donovan, if you take after your mother," Professor Weasley noted admiringly. "Let's try someone else just for the hell of it," he said audaciously, many of the students shocked by the language used by their own professor.

Celeste raised her hand timidly.

Professor Weasley snapped his fingers repeatedly in an attempt to jog his memory. "Miss Dawn, correct?" he said after a moment.

"Yes professor," she said in a quiet voice, not standing up from her seat like Donovan did.

"Your older sister, Jennifer, is in Ravenclaw if I'm not mistaken?" he said.

"Yes Professor."

"So, how do you kill a Bogart then?" he asked her.

"Well, you laugh at it," she said timidly.

"Simple as that," he said easily. "Happen to know the most common spell used to make that possible?"

Celeste hesitated not knowing the answer.

"Ridiculous," Donovan muttered to her through the corner of his mouth.

"Ridiculous," Celeste said to Professor Weasley in a much louder voice than what she had been using.

"Excellent. Five… nah, make it ten to Gryffindor," Professor Weasley rewarded casually. "Okay then. Wands out, lets go kill a Bogart," he said opening the door outside the classroom. "Everyone up and out," he said flagging them down from their desks.

Slowly the students got up from their seats and ambled their way down the seats. A chorus of both excitement and uneasiness wafted over the classroom

"We're going to kill a Bogart? But we hardly even know how to do magic yet."

"Well, it's worth a try."

"I bet _he_ doesn't need to kill one, he'd probably sympathize with it and become best friends before he'd get the first spell out," one Hufflepuff student taunted looking straight at Donovan with a cold smirk.

"I don't need to make friends," Donovan said with a heartless tone as he glared at him with black eyes. "Not when I can make enemies, then kill them."

It didn't take anymore than that to ward off the typical Hufflepuff student.

"You didn't need to do that," Celeste told him sternly.

"Neither did he," Donovan countered. "Besides, if I'm allowed to defend you, why can't I defend myself?"

"I never asked to be defended," she returned wittingly.

Donovan sighed. "You don't expect me to do nothing and just watch, do you?"

"True, just tone it down a bit. Overkill is only good on that battlefield of yours I think," Celeste negotiated with a soothing tone to her voice.

"Fair enough," Donovan agreed as he walked out of the classroom door following the line of students in front of him.

Professor Weasley led them a short distance down the hall to a different unoccupied classroom, aside from the fact that a wooden crate stood at the opposite end of the room.

"All right, everyone on the opposite side," Professor Weasley said gesturing to far end of the room. "I'd like to be between you guys and the Bogart for the moment," he explained.

The students gathered at the opposite end. Professor Weasley stood right night to the crate, it shuddered violently, everyone but himself and Donovan recoiled. "Now, whatever your greatest fear may be, that's what the Bogart is going to turn into, so prepare yourself mentally," he gave the crate an absent minded pat, making it jolt once more. "Some of you may not exactly know what that is, don't worry, you'll find out soon enough."

The class became very insecure hearing this.

"I'll need a volunteer, how about a Hufflepuff for a change," he offered looking amongst his not so eager students.

"Well…" the Hufflepuff that had confronted Donovan at his own expense earlier said stepping forward. "Can't actually hurt me."

"Not true," Professor Weasley said with a smile. "Bogarts may not be able to, lets say duplicate venom, like in my case of a dread for spiders, or perfectly mimic magical properties of other magical creatures. Let's say if you feared dragons considerably; it would turn into one, but would lack the ability to breath flame; however it still be able to tear you to shreds with it's brute strength," he explained.

This didn't really help the Hufflepuff much.

"What's your name?"

"Richard Timberly," he said nervously.

"Got a good idea what might come out of this crate Richard?" Professor Weasley asked him openly

Richard mumbled something under his breath.

"No need to be shy, soon enough we will all be seeing each others worst fears," he told him.

"When I was six, there was a dog that came at me, had to go to the hospital," he muttered just loud enough for everyone to decipher.

"A dog eh?" Professor Weasley said scratching his chin, the crate convulsed making Richard take a step back. "Here's an idea," he said bending down and whispering into Richard's ear.

Richard nodded with a nervous laugh at one moment.

"Any questions?" he said looking at him. "No? Okay then," he said stepping back.

"I thought you were going to be right next to me," Richard said nervously.

"If I'm too close it'll probably turn into a dog with eight hairy legs or something," he explained honestly. "I'll be right over there."

Richard nodded weakly, shaking wear he stood.

"All right, one slobbering smelly Bogart coming at you in three… two… one," he said flicking his wand lightly.

All four walls on the crate fell open. An animalistic growling came from the cloud of settling dust. Yellow fangs and green eyes glared through the mist as a massive dog, gray and black hair raised and foam drooling from its mouth, advanced on the Hufflepuff.

"Picture what you want it to turn into now," Professor Weasley reminded.

"Ridiculous!" he cried nervously as he construed his face in concentration.

The gray and black hair that blanketed the dog fell off in one smooth motion into a pile of fur on the ground. The hairless beast began to shiver having lost its coat.

The class discharged a moment of laughter at the unexpected magical shearing of the Bogart, which looked at the children apprehensively as it stuck the tail between its legs.

"Terrific! Twenty points to Hufflepuff! Who's next?" Professor Weasley asked looking at the now very eager class.

A small red haired girl steeped forward boldly trading off with Richard.

Pop. A massive centipede snapping its large mandibles with hundreds of thin legs made their advance on the girl.

"Ridiculous!" she cried instantly. The insect instantly crawled around in a loop and tied itself into a knot. Not as amusing as a rabid dog deprived of it's fur, but it still earned a few laughs and cheers.

Another student stepped forward with his wand already drawn taking the girl's place.

A soft bang was made as the Bogart turned into a Death Eater with a skull-white mask, leveling his wand upon the student. Donovan, upon seeing a dark wizard appear before him, had instinctively reached for his wand, but quickly caught himself before becoming involved in someone else's fight.

"Ridiculous!" the student cried. The eye and moth holes in the mask disappeared making it impossible for the death eater to see as he stumbled around hopelessly.

Donovan knit his brow as he wondered what his Bogart would be. It was natural for one to feel concerned for one's own survival; fear is your subconscious mind looking out for yourself, quite natural. But what did he fear most of all? He had been so thoroughly conditioned through any possible battle simulation, even tagged along with actual Aurors during missions on many accounts, he probably couldn't be unfazed by conventional means, but was there one thing that truly terrified him more than anything else?

The Bogart, now a putrid Inferi, slowly progressed on another student. "Ridiculous!" and the dark creature had become adorned in a pair of sunglasses, swim trunks, and a yellow inflatable inner tube that resembled a duck around its waist.

The entire class, except for Donovan, laughed at the harassed Bogart.

"Your turn Celeste," the student said passing her with a cheerful smile.

Celeste hesitated for a moment. "Oh," she said absently moving stepping away from the rest of the class, and slowly pushed herself forward the Bogart.

The Bogart seemed to hesitate transforming, as if waiting for the perfect time to strike. A dull crack carried over the room as the Bogart transformed.

A deterring man stood before her, a slimy curtain of light brown hair that fell past his shoulders partly obscured his face that pointed towards the ground. Torn black robes caked in filth caught a cool wind and billowed slightly as his face slowly lifted upwards. He shock slightly, like his was under some kind of intense weight, like his muscles were fighting each other unable to fluently move his body in a certain direction.

A deranged gleam in his hazel eyes set off an instinctive alarm inside Donovan's mind. He had seen it plenty of times, maybe had been at that state of mind himself a number of times before. It was more than the state of mind to kill; it was the need to end one's life. The crazed desire and desperate rage that ensured one's survival on the battlefield, the murderous track of mind it took to take life one after another.

A hideous yellow serrated grin spread across his distorted face. Celeste became rigid with fear as a frightened squeak came from her trembling lips. Donovan could see her paralyzed in shock as her wings quivered in horror of what stood before her.

Donovan registered an imitation of a tarnished dagger now in the Bogart's hand, one just as effective as a real dagger. The replication of Rustle Jugson the half-breed killer staggered towards Celeste closing the distance far to fast for anyone to react, anyone but someone who had been rehearsed extensively in every form of relevant warfare since birth.

Donovan pushed his way forcefully through the crowd of students who stood and did nothing as the Bogart came within paces of Celeste. Celeste's wand fell from her delicate fingers and clattered on the floor as the Rustle Jugson raised his rusty dagger above Celeste.

He knew there was no time to intercept the blade, but he could get to Celeste and make a compromise. Donovan threw his arms around Celeste from behind, forcing her own velvety wings to wrap around her body and pivoted himself so he was between the Bogart and Celeste.

Donovan felt a coarse irregular object pierce him from behind somewhere bellow his collarbone and his shoulder blade, his grip tightened around Celeste as he grunted in agony while the blade continued to gore it's way through his flesh. He felt the knife puncture his right lung and stop abruptly at a rib on the other side of his chest.

Pop. Donovan felt the knife inside him vanish into nothingness. Through the intense pain that ran though his body he was able to figure that the Bogart had now taken shape of his worse fear. Donovan felt cold blood run down his back from the puncture wound.

Then he felt it, the presence of another Dementor, but not just any another Dementor. It may have been just an imitation, but it felt just same as he imagined it would.

Donovan collapsed to the ground, unable to hold himself due to the lack of blood in his system. Celeste tried keeping him on his feet, but she was only to cradle his descent to the cold stone floor.

"Donovan!" she screamed desperately as he looked up at the towering black figure before him.

A Black tattered cloak swirled hauntingly in an icy wind that seemed to sap one's will to survive. Beneath a dark hood a long draining noise, a raspy greedy breath that depleted more than just the warmth in the air.

"Father…" Donovan muttered in a state of traumatized shock as Celeste kneeled over him protectively, not yielding to the Bogart that stood over them.

"RIDICULOUS!" Professor Weasley bellowed fiercely advancing on the Dementor, not giving it a chance to adjust to his own personal fear. The Bogart exploded into a thick gray cloud of smoke, sending a blast of cold wind engulfing the entire class.

Professor Weasley swore crudely as he kneeled next to Donovan, his head in Celeste's lap. Celeste gasped as she looked at her left hand, one that was stained with a fluid the color of crude oil, but a distinct smell that confirmed what it truly was.

"Black blood?" she said breathlessly.

Donovan managed to produce a weak grin. "It's the inside that counts," he said with a notable amount of dread in his voice.

"I need some very fast students, who know the way, to run and get the nurse," he yelled to the class.

The class hesitated, as if unwilling to help Donovan. Timothy then ran for the door. "Who knows where the hospital wing is?" he asked the class looking among them as he pulled the door open.

Richard Timberly stepped foreword, as if regretting what he was doing. "I do," he muttered quietly.

"Let's move then," Timothy suggested treating the Hufflepuff like he must have been stupid to be just standing there.

Donovan grimaced in pain. "Sir, Magical healing won't-"

"I know magical healing doesn't work on you," Professor Weasley said. "I was there when you were born. It had the healers very confused at first. And don't call me sir."

Donovan furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "I need pressure dressing on the entrance wound," he muttered weakly. "If you could perform an isolated variation of a draining charm on my right lung to clear out all the blood that's flooding it," he suggested.

"What the hell is pressure dressing?" Professor Weasley said flipping Donovan on his side and ripping the robes on his back, his head still on Celeste's knees.

"I have a sucking chest wound," Donovan explained hoarsely. "Air is being pulled into my body through the puncture every time I breathe."

"I see, looks like a butt hole doing the opposite of a fart every time you take a breath," Professor Weasley explained vaguely. Donovan had to admit he had a way of putting things.

"I need a one-way valve on the wound," Donavan explained. He hacked violently, black mist sprayed out his mouth on Celeste's lap, she gasped in panic. She gasped in concern for her friend. "Air goes out, not in," he explained. "A square of plastic or something lightly pressed on the would will do that."

"What kind of plastic?" Professor Weasley asked.

"A piece of litter like a potato chip bag or something, doesn't matter much," Donovan said offhandedly in a whisper. "I feel dizzy."

"I can top that," Professor Weasley said professional tone to Celeste as he flicked his wand conjuring a muggle roll of aluminum foil "Miss Dawn. Try to keep Donovan awake. If he passes out he may suffer brain damage…or something like that. Asking questions works best I hear."

Celeste bent down near Donovan and spoke in his ear. "You didn't have to do that," she whispered.

Professor Weasley unrolled the foil and magically cut out a four-inch by four-inch square with the tip of his wand.

"Yeah, I did," he muttered weakly in protest.

"Hey Donovan?" Celeste said as she swept dark brown tendrils of hair out of Donovan's face.

Professor Weasley pressed the square of aluminum foil against Donovan's back gently. Donovan inhaled sharply through gritted teeth. "Yeah?" he said recovering from the moment of pain.

"What would happen if someone were to kiss you?" she asked nervously in an undertone, just loud enough for only him to hear, not knowing anything else to ask him.

"Don't know," Donovan said as Professor Weasley muttered the incantation of a draining spell on his right lung. "You really what to find out?" he said with a halfhearted laugh in spite of himself, meant as an honest joke.

"Lets," whispered Celeste bending over Donovan, her face coming closer every time Donovan's heart thudded powerfully in his chest. As she leaned in he noticed how small her mouth was, her naturally long black lashes glistened with tears, and how she used her thin elegant fingers to hold her shiny black hair back behind her left ear while her other hand caressed his cheek preventing him from looking away. Donovan was bathed in soft white light that filtered through her soft white wings hovering over them giving an effect like they were in a tent made of silk lace. He buried his head further into her lap to prolong the inevitable as he felt a soft warm breath from her slightly parted lips tickle his face lightly.

"What happened here?" a horribly high-pitched voice tore through the silence. A young woman who looked to have only graduated from Hogwarts several years ago stood at the door followed closely by Timothy and Richard.

Celeste sat up instantly. Donovan was wholly glad for the interruption, he wouldn't know if he would or wouldn't devour Celeste's soul the moment her lips touched his. Maybe he could control it, maybe a Dementorian hunger would surface and he would chose to do so on his another feral will hidden within himself, he didn't want to find out. But then again, a more selfish part of him wanted to conclude the moment properly, regardless of the risk for Celeste's soul.

"Stab wound to the back entering the right lung, maybe a damaged rib. Magical healing-"

"-Won't work, I know. Read his file this morning," she muttered kneeling next to him and looking at Donovan's eyes pointing a lit wand checking for pupil dilation.

"That's strange," she said. "I'd expect him to be in shock by now," she said under her breath.

"I'm above mere pain ma'am," Donovan rasped weakly.

"Okay then, that makes it easier on the both of us," she said pointing her wand at Donovan's face and casting an adaptation of a bubblehead charm. A large bubble appeared around Donovan's head, and when he breathed in weakly he felt his head rush as he breathed in a full mixture of oxygen.

The nurse furrowed her eyebrows in thought before pointing her wand at his chest and hitting him with a very weak stunning spell.

"What you do?" Professor Weasley asked.

"Put him on a pure oxygen bubblehead charm and stunned his right lung so it can heal without being disturbed by continuous breathing. He's going off his left lung only, but that shouldn't be a problem since he's breathing more than fresh air. Is that pressure dressing?" she said looking at the sheet of aluminum foil pressed on Donovan's back.

"Air goes out, not in," Professor Weasley said with a shrug. "I don't know, kid told me himself."

"That's impressive," she said with a faint nod. "That's how Muggles treat bullet wounds to the chest generally till they can get some real medical attention," she informed him flicking her wand making conjuring a floating stretcher next to Donovan and then levitating him onto it.

"Anything I can do?" Professor Weasley asked standing up.

"Get a blood sample from the floor," the nurse said gesturing to the black pool where Donovan had just been. "And take it to the potions master so he can specially fashion a blood potion for him."

"Sure," Professor Weasley agreed. "Oh one more thing. I know you're suppose to report all incidents to the ministry-"

"What incident?" she said smiling at him with a wink.

The nurse left with Donovan floating on the stretcher towards the hospital wing.

"Professor?" Celeste said standing next to Professor Weasley. "He's going to be okay, right?"

"He'll be fine," he said removing an empty flask from his robes and bending over the considerably large puddle of black blood. "What I don't understand is why he didn't use his Dementorian aura. With the entire class present he would have regenerated within minutes."

Celeste gasped inwardly. "He can do that?"

"Yup, not much he can't do I imagine."

"He didn't want to hurt me again," Celeste said to herself. "That's why he didn't use it."

Professor Weasley furrowed his eyebrows slightly as he magically siphoned the black blood pool into the flask. "He ever tell you about his twin sister, Nyx, did he?"

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

**Author's Note:** Oh yeah! The plot thickens like fruit juice to Jell-O in my refrigerator. Yum, Jell-O… (Snaps back to reality) Would have gotten this chapter done sooner if I didn't have difficulties with it and had to delete the entire chapter twice after not liking it, not to mention an unexpected visit from my ex, that muddled me up for some time, but I'm back on track for the most part.

Next chapter will be hard for me to roll out I think, but that won't stop me. This is the most original story I've thought of so far, and I intend of finishing it more than another incomplete story I've written… (Checks list of stories to find none has ever been finished.) Shut up!

Ah yes, pressure dressing. I hope I explained it well in my story, the medical treatment seems reasonable according to my personal military knowledge, but I'm not a medic or anything, so I could be wrong. If you're ever shot in the torso, or hopefully it's someone else, and you see bloody bubbles or air being sucked in, gently hold an airtight plastic or foil something against it. Stops an air cavity building up inside the victim and killing them somehow. Don't forget to raise the legs too. I left that out in the story because I wanted Celeste and Donovan to be secluded as much as possible during their 'near encounter', not a third wheel in the picture, however the entire class was in the room at the time and Ron was holding a square of tinfoil to Donovan's knife wound… Oh hell, leave me alone!

Moving on to a more humorous subject. I've noticed that Half-breeds have been somewhat ignored as an essential plot in most fan fiction stories, aside the extremely common half Veela charade, you stupid unimaginative people. I would like to say that anyone is free to take my idea's in any story If they need one, but for those of you who need even more idea's I have compiled a list of half breeds I've figured that could possibly exist in the Harry Potter World. It is time for the magical melting pot to start… melting… yeah, whatever. In order from acceptably plausible to outright absurd, brace yourself.

One's we all know and love:

-Half giants

-Half Veela

-Werewolves? This could be an explanation how you would get some half-breeds that wouldn't be compatible in a physical sense. (The deed has got to be done somehow.) So basically you got a werewolf, who is human on any other lunar phase, and makes sweet love to some unfortunate creature… um, yeah, I'm messed up… (You think that's bad? Just keep reading.)

And the rest:

-Half Dementor: Technically not possible according to my research, but that didn't stop me.

-Half Harpy: Harpies are not depicted any further other than the mascot for the Holyhead Harpies all female quidditch team. So it's up for grabs as well as interpretation.

-Half Dwarf: I suspect Professor Flitwick of this condition, or a magical accident when he was young.

-Half Bogart: How is this possible? Easy, all you need is a girl who has a fear of being raped; I expect you can figure out the rest. Harsh I know. I think this is a good option compared to anything else I got here. Get a shape shifter character in your story perhaps.

-Half Sprite: There's an idea. Not exactly sure what would you get.

-Half Kelpie: This is a water demon that can change it's shape at will, however they like to kill humans more than making love to them, making this combination a difficult one to explain.

-Half House elf: Legolass perhaps? This is going to get all the girls excited I think.

-Half Vampire: Been done many times before…

Half mermaid: Hmmm, a wizard or witch that can breath underwater, or something like that, I don't know.

-Half Banshee: Umm… Okay, whatever floats your boat.

Half Hag: I could see this being done, but I don't see anyone writing about it anytime soon, and if so I don't expect any admiring reviews aside perhaps a rare, but honest, complement in regards to the author's boldness.

Half Fairy or Doxy or pixy (what's the difference?): There like five inches tall or something. You'd get a tiny kid with dragonfly wings or something. You think that's bad, just read what's next!

Half Leprechaun: YEAH BABY! Downhill from here!

Half Yeti: Furriness… I'm going to get stoned to death any minute here.

Half troll: Let the stones fly!

Half ghoul: This will require nothing less than large quantities of fire whisky, laced with love potion, and a loaded firearm pointed at someone's cranium.

Half gnome: …

Half Imp: Ugh. What malformed child would be spawned from this horrible combination, I'll leave that up to your imagination.

Half centaur: Nasty images. Is that physically possible? Well if giants and wizards somehow cope… right, T rated story.

Half Ogre: Yeah… Someone flame me… Please… I deserve it…

Half Inferi: ZOMBIE SEX!!!! DAMN STRAIGHT I WENT THERE! NECROPHILIA HAPPY LAND BABY!

I best stop before I get my story gets banned or something, but as you can see there are a number of ideas other than half Veela that people can use, although I don't recommend too many off them.

Anything I should add to the list? Send me a review! Want to tell me I'm an inexcusably disturbing retard who should be hanged alongside Saddam Hussein? I'll take anything I can get!


End file.
